


The Gospel of Michael-and-Gavin

by PAPERSK1N



Series: Paintball!Verse [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael had loved Gavin whether he knew it or not from more or less the very moment they met, and Gavin had loved him twice as much for just as long. Other than that, there weren’t many hard facts involved. Michael and Gavin had met on Valentine’s Day, and sometime between then and now they had blossomed from strangers to an uncontainable force of love and shared companionship.</p><p>OR</p><p>The story of how Michael and Gavin fell in love on a mission and how Ray really wanted to know to check if he was normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gospel of Michael-and-Gavin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Great Rooster Teeth Paintball War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090930) by [PAPERSK1N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N). 



Ray wasn’t exactly sure of the precise pinpointed moment that Michael and Gavin had become Michael-and-Gavin.

It seemed to be just a complete constant in his life as a Rooster Teeth employee. It was one of the many unspoken rules- don’t fuck with Burnie, don’t fuck with other people’s snacks, don’t fuck with Michael-and-Gavin. The two were admittedly a menace at times, but the complete irrefutable love they shared for each other was more than clear for anyone to see.

It wasn’t just love in the romantic sense- Michael had loved Gavin whether he knew it or not from more or less the very moment they met, and Gavin had loved him twice as much for just as long. Other than that, there weren’t many hard facts involved. Michael and Gavin had met on Valentine’s Day, and sometime between then and now they had blossomed from strangers to an uncontainable force of love and shared companionship.

That’s the way they’d always been, for as long as Ray had been part of the company. He asked Michael, out of nothing much more than sheer curiosity one cold night on a job in Russia. They were laying low in a dingy motel with no English-speaking TV channels, no signal and no WiFi. They had to talk to each other, whether they liked it or not. The space they’d (mistakably) chosen to lay their heads in looked more like a prison than a motel room, two steely metal bunks crammed in a 6x6 room with one tiny window and no drapes, a two-drawer dresser and a satellite television.

“What do you mean, how _long_?” Michael asked, an incredulous look on his face at the mere question. Ray simply shrugged, laid back on the bed with his head dangling over the edge and his feet up against the wall.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It just… feels like it’s been the two of you for so long. When was that moment… that you stopped being strangers and started being _you_ \- Michael-and-Gav?”

Thinking back on it, for Michael it almost seemed as if things had been that way since the first day they’d met. February thirteenth had been Michael and then separately Gavin, existing on divergent planes of the universe- never once connecting or intertwining with each other past knowing _of_ , never knowing _who._   Then, by February fifteenth it was Michael-and-Gavin, never one considered without the other, an unstoppable force of chaos wreaking their own personal form of havoc over their tiny little world. They were like pepperoni and jalapeños on a pizza- somewhat shocking to some and borderline unpleasant to many, but a perfect combination nonetheless.

They were friends, at first- or ‘bois’ as Gavin had dubbed it. Michael had been Ray’s friend for a lot longer than Gavin, years even- but that had been the result of slowly built tolerance and understanding and an unignorably natural spark of chemistry turned connection. One day they were strangers and several months later they considered themselves to be friends. Years passed, they were _good_ friends. Gavin had turned Michael’s life upside down within what a week and maybe a half.

Before his official move to Rooster Teeth and the USA in general, Gavin was something of an urban legend in the contract killer community. People knew of him and of his (many) works and affiliations with Rooster Teeth and other corporations over the years, but he was known mostly as a drifter. He did what he needed to get by and lend a hand but he never stuck around the same site for long before heading home. Gavin was able to float freely between what was a dream job for some and what was considered a dream life for the rest. This freedom- this insensibility and frank disregard for the structured rules of the life that Michael had become accustom to was what irked him about Gavin long before they ever met. Michael had worked his ass off for years to even be noticed by Rooster Teeth, let alone hired- so the fact that this British asshole could come and go as he pleased was beyond dissatisfying. In his eyes, Gavin Free had been given everything he had worked for on a silver fucking platter.

Gavin was more than just a person- he was a _presence_ in the building. One day he wasn’t there and then the next day he had appeared- as if he had been forged out of thin air, spinning about aimlessly in an office chair at the desk beside Michael’s with a cheerful expression and a European boyband haircut, unknowingly changing the course of Michael’s entire life from the moment he introduced himself.

“Oh, you must be Michael! Gavin Free, good to meet you mate.”

Michael’s first instinct had been to frown, something that he was later surprised hadn’t deterred Gavin. The Brit had taken his displeasure in his stride, Michael’s grimace and his glare and the suspicion lingering in his handshake barely skimming over him. _Water off a duck’s back_ was his morale- and Gavin’s beaky nose and tendency to squawk made him the perfect piece of poultry.

Michael had dumped a load of paperwork on Gavin’s desk and asked him to fill it out, and was greatly surprised when the guy just fucking _went_ with it. Who did that?

(Gavin, apparently did that. _“Well, you were the bloody Rage Quit guy. I didn’t want to get on your bad side- might end up murdered!”_ )

“You know, Michael.” Gavin had said, pushing the neatly organised and filled out stack of papers back over an hour later. “I think we’re gonna be the best of mates, you and I.”

Michael, like an idiot- hadn’t believed him for a second.

Michael didn’t have _friends_ , or at least not many. Friends were as dangerous as lovers in their profession, and Michael had built his career so far on being unshakeable. Ray was an exception. Not only could he hold his own, the asshole had simply persevered and managed to whittle down his tough exterior and besides, they had too many active connections with previous affiliations to ever be completely erased from each other’s lives. Michael also had his friends from his old crew- _Internet Box_ , some of which were directly involved in Rooster Teeth at one time or another (like Barbara or Mike) and some who weren’t (like Andy and Ray) and he had his co-worked friends, like Geoff and Jack- but the two were more like mentors than actual _friends_ , keen to guide Michael under their nurturing wings with foul language and enough liquor to justify drinking at work on a semi-regular basis.

Where Gavin was concerned, it seemed as if within a week everyone in the company was his best friend. He already knew Burnie and Geoff and Matt and everyone else who sat comfortably in the company’s top rankings. The kind of guys that made Michael quiver with fear in the hallways when they nodded at him were lifting Gavin on their backs playfully and drinking beers with him over paperwork. Even the newer employees, the ones who had met Gavin the same day he had were acting as his doting subjects, all eager to spend a little time with Rooster Teeth’s mysterious golden boy. Gavin just had that effect on people- he gave off the impression that his time was precious and if it was gifted to you then you mattered. You could pack your shit and leave for Timbuktu, you could get hit by a car and die- it wouldn’t matter, because Gavin had acknowledged your presence and complimented your outfit or your shoes or your haircut.

So why he had spent so much time in those early days trying to develop _their_ friendship- Michael would never really understand. Gavin was one day just a constant in his life- smiling next to him during the day, sipping beer with him in the bar at night. Gavin got him invited _everywhere_ \- drinks at the Ramsey’s (Geoff’s wife Griffon- probably the scariest person Michael had met on his first day, had ruffled his hair and complimented his dimples and mixed him a shockingly green drink with limes in it), trips to the bar with Gus and Jack and Joel expensive dinners courtesy of Burnie frickin’ Burns himself- the whole shebang. Suddenly, Michael became one of _those_ \- a Gavin or a Chris or a Barbara or a Kerry. Someone who knew _everyone_. Someone who _was known_ by everyone.

Gavin had mowed him a path through the hierarchy with flowers strewn along the sides and Michael was more than glad to frolic down it- so by the time it came to him actually being used for official field work, it was obvious who his choice of partner would be.

Gavin had been he one to give him his codename- _Mogar_ , the so-called ‘bear warrior’ after a few hours of drunken Minecraft with Geoff and Jack and unsurprisingly, it had stuck. The stupid name that had brought entire gangs to their feet had been crafted from the baffling mind of the world’s most stupidly brilliant Brit, and he loved the mere idea of it.

By the time Ray joined the company- Michael and Gavin’s friendship had come near to its full bloom. They were ‘bois’, Gavin explained to every single person he conversed with. Michael was his ‘boi’ and they did everything together. Michael had half expected Ray to be jealous after year’s-worth of built up trust and friendship had been instantly overshadowed by a skinny European with a goofy ass grin- but the equally skinny American had brushed it off with a smile and a shrug. He didn’t need something as childish as ‘best friend’ status to define what he had with Michael. They had each other’s back, that’s all that mattered. Gavin wasn’t too bad either, he supposed, and the Brit was more than happy to suck Ray into a subset of his and Michael’s epic bromance- a hybrid of Team Nice Dynamite dubbed, quite simply, ‘Team Lads’ and with Ryan as the sixth addition to their groundwork squad- ‘Team Gents’ was way too convenient a nickname to pass up.

Ray had met Ryan, the brooding masked madman with a confirmed kill list as long as his arm around the same time that Michael began to realise his feelings for Gavin were starting to swell a little over the really really _really_ good friends stage.

It was the little things; he began to realise. The way Gavin always grimace at his first sip of coffee- like he despised the taste but needed the sustenance. The way Gavin mad indescribable sounds when Geoff tackled him to the floor or he died in a game or something entertaining happened. They way Gavin called fries chips and chips crisps and refused to change his ways. The way Gavin said his name, a butchered lisp of _“Mi-cool”_ when he was drunk and a high pitched _“My-cal!”_ when he was excited. These tiny details did things to him that he could neither explain nor understand. And he was cool with that, for the most part because as long as it wasn’t actually love- he was fine.

Love was way too a precarious issue to play around with in their business. The ones you loved would be snatched away in a second the moment you confirmed your feelings for them. For the lucky few, like Geoff and Griffon- it became an advantage, having a team mate who always had your back and understood the sacrifices that had to be made. But then, for the majority- it soon became a hindrance. Because _sure_ , Geoff had Griffon now, but occasionally he’d mention a first wife and his blue eyes would cloud and become unreadable.

No. Love was not a risk Michael was willing to take. He didn’t need to have his body broken for the sake of his heart.

Gavin had a way of making Michael break all his rules.

“That’s sappy as fuck, dude.” Ray laughed, lit cigarette hanging between his lips. Smoking, a filthy habit he’d picked up off of Ryan was starting to take over his life. Michael hated it, but put up with it regardless.

“Whatever.” His ‘best-friend’ said, a dimpled smile playing on his face as he attempted a nonchalant shrug. “It’s true. I liked Gavin- but I wasn’t looking to fall in love with the asshole! It’s way too dangerous- it’s fucking stupid even! Still now, I’m constantly worried about losing him.”

“Is it really that awful?” Ray asked. Michael nodded.

“It really is. You’ll get that soon- with Ryan. After the first time he gets seriously injured or doesn’t report to HQ or isn’t at a meeting point. You’ll realise then if you really love him or not.”

“This isn’t about me and Ryan.” Ray said, after a long pause. For him, with Ryan- his feelings hand snuck up on him like Michael’s. They hadn’t jumped out of a bush and jacked him, leaving him forever hindered by such an inconvenience as _feeling_. With Ryan, he still felt the same as he did when they first became friends. Ryan was a cool guy, he was funny and nice to hang out with. All they’d added was _really_ nice hugs and sex. Whether that meant he had always been in love with Ryan or he never would be still hung in the precarious see-saw of his heart and mind.

“Sure it isn’t.” Michael scoffed. “You’re only asking me all this shit about Gavin to know if you and Ryan are normal.”

Ray blushed, cursing Michael silently for always being able to read him so easily. The dude must’ve been a fucking mind reader, because he always guessed Ray’s thoughts way too easily.

“Shut up. Finish your sappy love story.”

“Fine.” Michael smirked.

The first time he knew for sure that the love he had developed for Gavin was unavoidable was the night Gavin had met a girl they knew only as _The Vixen._

She was an operative from a rival agency and Michael and Gavin had been sent in to take her out. A routine job, really- except that this girl was different. She was smart- and she knew a trick when she saw one.

So the plan was to get Gavin- a face she’d surely never seen before (Gavin was _always_ careful) to flirt with her and take her back to his hotel room. They couldn’t kill her then and there of course, that would just be too messy and predictable. Gavin would have to… entertain her for the night, call her the next day to meet up and take her out then. From the moment Gavin joked that if the sex was good enough he’d maybe think twice about putting a bullet in her skull, Michael’s _Rage Quit_ persona that had put him on the map was starting to bubble in his gut.

He’d sat there in the bar from a distance, nursing beer after beer as Gavin smiled and laughed and flirted his stupid little ass off. The guy was a pro at picking up people, a fact about the moron that he’d never believed until he saw it with his own two eyes. Gavin was the most awkward motherfucker he knew but suddenly, when sex came into the equation he was the James Bond of Austin, Texas. Gavin had given him many a detailed tale of his many sexscapades over the years- from the night he lost his virginity to the redheaded girl he’d hooked up with last Tuesday.

Those stories hadn’t bothered him that much- because Gavin never had real _interest_ in these girls (and guys) on a personal level. Gavin went after what he wanted, and quit whilst he was ahead. It wasn’t like he could actively look for a relationship in his line of work anyway- and also, he got the weirdest little kick out making people feel like they _needed_ him, right before dropping people off the edge.

Michael, by that point in his tumble down into the chasm that was _those_ _feelings_ for Gavin- had really considered what it would be like just to be the pathetic bed warmer for a night. Even if Gavin never spoke to him afterwards, as he always did. just to have the night; get the bullshit out of his system. Move the fuck on.

But no- there he was, stewing in his own rage as Gavin muttered sweet nothings into the pretty girl’s ear. _The Vixen_ , whoever the fuck she was _really_ was beautiful- dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair. Dark soul too- probably, but she was easily one of the most beautiful women either of them had ever seen. They’d been tailing her, keeping tabs over the past week, and Gavin had commented so frequently on how _fit_ she was that it was slowly starting to grate.

Gavin shot him a look as he walked out of the bar with his hand on the small of her back. A look that said, _see you later_ , in the most causal, friendly way. It made Michael’s hand tighten around the glass bottle so hard that he could’ve sworn he heard it crack.

“I love it when you get jealous.” Ray teased with a smirk, exhaling smoke over their heads. Michael rolled his eyes, laying back flat on his own tiny metal bed with his arms folded over his chest.

“Whatever dude. It sounds dumb know but… at the time I just- that’s when I knew, that I really was fucking screwed. Because when I saw him leaving with her… I just felt fucking helpless.”

“For real?” Ray asked in a quiet voice. Michael nodded.

“It was fucked up- and scary as shit for me. You knew Gav back them, you knew how he was with the people he hooked up with a flirted with. I didn’t want to fucking confess my dumb gay feelings for him and freak him the fuck out- we were friends.” He laughed, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the past. “I didn’t want to risk fucking that up.”

“So what did you do? Chase them out of the bar and fight for your man?” Ray asked sarcastically. Michael glared at him.

“Dude. We were fucking working, remember. I let Gavin go home with her, he came back the next morning as planned. I didn’t say a fucking thing- it wasn’t until that fucking next night when we were set to kill her that shit… turned.”

Tailing her to the apartment she’d been staying in under the radar was fine, mostly. Michael kept his fucking mouth shut about his stupid feelings and Gavin barely noticed the change in behaviour. When he asked briefly why Michael was so quiet, a quick flimsy hungover excuse had more than sated him. Gavin was like a cat, easy to keep content as long as you didn’t try and hold him back on a leash.

Gavin was too, cat-like in his movements as he crept into the Vixen’s apartment, climbing up the drainpipe and silently slipping through a window without so much as a puff of breath. He gave Michael the signal to come around the front and wait outside the door so he could let him in too.

Michael was in mission mode- mostly. He knew the job, knew the outcome that would get him the fattest pay-check and knew how to act if shit went _tits up_ , as Gavin had coined it. Work was work and life was life- he’d learnt to separate the two a long time ago and he’d learnt the hard way. It didn’t matter how fucking majestic Gavin looked as he silently creeped across the apartment, the only sound being the running of the shower from the bathroom. Nothing he ever did- no matter how brutal and barbaric could ever match up to Gavin at work.

Wetwork was Gavin’s speciality. He could slip in, slit your throat and be back home in time for _The Price is Right_ without the cops suspecting a thing. He was a different level of contract killer- for Gavin, it was never simply _work;_ he made it look like an art, gun in hand as he approached the bathroom door. The shower tap squeaked as the water was shut off, and Michael stood frozen by the door- holding his breath. Really, he was only supposed to be there for cover. Make sure Gavin got shit done, and got out safe.

How fucking unfortunate, that it was practically in his job description to make sure Gavin was okay at all times. Like he even needed it, standing with a smirk on his face and his finger on the trigger as the door opened and the Vixen stepped out.

“Sorry Veronica.” He said, but everyone in the room knew he wasn’t sorry at all. Gavin was smugness personified, and the Vixen- or _Veronica_ knew it. Her face dropped, body trying to take on a defensive stance with the white towel draped around her dripping body but it was too late. When Gavin Free was in your face with a gun, it was always too late.

He got her between the eyes, quick and simple. Barely a drop of blood leaked onto the floor as she fell, because Gavin caught her, covering her mouth on instinct to muffle a scream that couldn’t quite escape. Then, Michael silent watched as he went to work on her body, dragging it back into the bathroom and running a shallow bath to dump her in. He pulled his gun (not his _actual_ gun, the chrome embarrassment that matched Michael’s with a thousand scratches and a few stickers- no, the company mandated assassination pistol with the silencer) and curled it in her hands, angling it to look as if she had shot herself.

Gavin was silent as he worked, paying as much attention to detail as an artist creating a sculpture. She was his human clay, flaccid and pliant to his every movement. Once he was finished, his face broke out into a soft sort of smile and he reached out, stroking her hair ever so softly to tuck behind her ear.

Michael’s fist clenched, but still- he said nothing.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Gavin commented, fingers running through her dark hair as it fell away from her face. Michael couldn’t hold back the scoff in his mouth, and Gavin’s face flung around to stare at him. In a short deft movement, the brit was on his feet, secondary pistol in his hand and pointed directly at Michael.

When Gavin Free was in your face with a gun, it was _always_ _too_ _late_.

“I could kill you, Michael.” He said steadily. Not once did his hand shake or his eyes blink. Michael had seen Gavin fumble with a pot of pens back at the office, but here in his natural habitat he was fluid and elegant and everything that directly opposed the very idea of _Gavin_ as a person. It was intriguing yet terrifying to be on the receiving end of, and Michael swallowed around the lump in his throat nervously as his heart thudded.

“You could.” He nodded, his own pistol still hanging limply in his grip. Had it been anyone else, they’d have a bullet in the chest by now. But this was Gavin. Gavin was different.

“I could shoot you, and you wouldn’t even try and stop me, would you?” Gavin asked. Michael shook his head, and for effect dropped his gun, sliding it towards Gavin with his foot.

“Do it.” He dared to say. “Shoot me.”

Only then, when he stood back and extended his arms, back curving slightly to receive the full impact of an oncoming bullet did Gavin’s hand begin to shake. Michael eyed it curiously, but kept his lips firmly sealed.

“You love me Michael.” Gavin said quietly, grip tightening as he willed his hand to stay still. His eyes drifted up the curve of Michael’s body to his eyes and stayed there with a piercing gaze. “Don’t you?” he asked, quieter.

Michael nodded. “I do. And I fucking hate it.”

Slowly, Gavin lowered the gun. Michael didn’t dare relax.  The gun went limp in Gavin’s grip until eventually, it fell to the floor and let off a shot, hitting the tiled wall. Both the boys flinched, panicked for a moment that they had somehow been shot by the other. When they noticed the splintered tile in the corner, Michael couldn’t help but burst into a short fit of harsh laughter, Gavin slowly joining him as embarrassment tinged his cheeks.

“You didn’t turn the fucking safety off!” Michael roared in hilarity as Gavin laughed his way closer, standing directly beside Michael as if he was trying to put as much space between himself and the gun as possible.

“I didn’t think it would bloody go off on the floor, did I?!”

It was so inherently _Gavin_ that Michael couldn’t help but laugh again, joy spilling as he felt the tension begin to lift.

“You moron.” he shook his head as the laughter died down between them. Gavin’s eyes settled on his, and his dopey stupid fucking smile spread across his face.

“Michael.” He drawled. “You _love_ me.”

“So what if I do?” Michael shrugged, trying to avoid Gavin’s meticulous study of his facial features. “So fucking what?” He continued. “Not like I can do anything about it.”

“You love me.” Gavin repeated.

“Yes!” Michael sighed. “Yes, Gavin- I fucking love you, alright? I do and it kills me- it almost killed me right now.” He clenched his fists by his sides in a feeble attempt to hold off the anger he held against himself for allowing his own emotions to get the better of him. “It’s going to kill me, one day.” He muttered.

Tentatively, Gavin reached out and took Michael’s fists in his palms, stroking his fingers and coaxing them to uncurl. His smile never wavered. “You love me,” he swirled his fingertips around the centre of Michael’s palms and looked back up into his eyes. “You love me and I love you.”

“Just like that?” Ray asked, cigarette long smoked out as he burrowed into Michael’s bed, which he had clambered into insisting it was too cold for either of them to be sleeping alone. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t get to sleep without Ryan beside him anymore. Michael probably already knew, but chose not to comment. He felt Michael nod beside him, even though his blurry gaze was cast to the ceiling.

“Just like that…” he asked. “You guys were… together?”

“Just like that.” Michael repeated. “I don’t really know how it exactly went from there but suddenly we were… _us_ , you know the rest.” He shrugged, making the bed squeak. “We loved each other. Still love each other now. Probably still will for a while longer.”

“Till you die?”

Michael rolled over slightly to look at him. “In our work- sure. Maybe if we were normal people I would’ve got over his annoying ass a long time ago- or maybe it’d never have happened in the first place. In our job- I really could die tomorrow. It is very likely that I _will_ die in the next few years.”

“Don’t say that.” Ray turned so his back was to Michael, face pressed against the scratchy pillow. “I’d save your ass.”

“I know you would.” He felt Michael settle against his back. “But still, who knows.” He yawned, hot breath tickling Ray’s neck. “I love him, and he loves me. Just like you love Ryan and he loves you.”

“So we’re in the same situation then?” Ray asked with a yawn. Michael scoffed.

“God no- Ryan’s a total fucking psycho. You’re absolutely screwed.”

Ray didn’t have a valid argument or enough physical energy to retort, and instead willed his eyes to close. He liked Michael’s story and he liked the fact that Michael and Gavin _were_ together. Sure, sometimes they were a liability and other times they were simply just annoying as hell- but he’d been there in some of the latter days of mutual pining when Gavin would mope around his desk and wax lyrical about Michael’s hair and his freckles and his eyes all God damn day-

But they were stories for other times, and for some reason he didn’t feel like they were relevant to Michael at all. He got the sense that his friend liked the way he believed it went- that he did the pining and the graft whilst Gavin sailed through it all without caring and suddenly ended up taking control. Michael had always secretly enjoyed it when other people took control for him.

And after all, who was Ray to judge that?

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments appreciated :)
> 
> Question; Do you want to see more from the Rooster Teeth Spies/Paintball verse?


End file.
